Change Of Plans
by EquestrianCSI
Summary: Follows As I Take My Last Breath. Michael takes Sara across the desert to meet up with Sucre and Burroughs. Are they on their way to freedom? Finished Rated M to be safe. :o
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I've no rights to Prison Break or the characters.**

It was hot. Blazing hot, and Michael was dragging Sara on a 75 mile trek through the New Mexican desert to the place where he'd be meeting Lucas and Fernando. He wouldn't be worried about Sara, if she were feeling better. But Kellerman had tried to electrocute her into divulging information, and it had left her weak and tired. Michael wondered if it were all for naught. Would he be too late and end up missing his shot at freedom, or would he be able to make it in time? He didn't expect his friend and brother to wait on him. In fact, he hoped they would go on without him if need be. Sara was falling behind, and Michael stopped, turning to encourage her onward. But things weren't looking good. Sara's pace had slowed, and her face was flushed with heat and exertion. Sweat drenched the collar of her sleeveless white shirt, and her arms were red from sunburn.

"Sara, I'm sorry," Michael said, jogging back toward her.

Stopping, Sara looked up into Michael's face; the same face she'd pictured everytime Kellerman had shocked her with that damned iron. When she had taken that last breath, she didn't expect to wake up to see Michael hovering over her. But she had, and now, he was here, and she wasn't going to leave him again.

"I thought I could do this," she gasped, stopping to wipe the sweat from her eyes.

"It's just so hot," her words were whispered, and she looked like she was ready to drop.

Michael pulled the canteen from his shoulder. She had to have water, and unfortunately, they were running dangerously low. Unscrewing the cap, Michael held it up to Sara's mouth and helped her hold the canteen steady. When she'd had a good drink, Sara pushed the water away.

"I can't do this," she told him weakly, and sank to the sand.

"It's too far." Sara's pulse was racing, and she felt her temperature rising to critical levels.

Michael's heart dropped. He was killing her; just as sure as Kellerman had been in that hotel room-turned-torture chamber. He ran his hands through his hair. It wasn't too much further; Sara had made it most of the way. Yet, he knew he couldn't push her any more. She was dressed in heavy denim jeans; necessary to protect against the scorpions, mosquitoes and cacti that inhabited the desert.

"Sara," Michael said, moistening his dry lips with his tongue,

"I need you to do something for me, okay?" he said, and Sara looked wearily into his eyes.

Tears jumped into Sara's eyes, and her throat began to work. Shaking her head, she threw up her hands.

"I can't go any further, Michael. You go; I should've been dead already." She bit her lip, and continued,

"You saved me once. Now, save yourself."

Michael's head jerked back as if he'd been slapped. The horror of her words stabbed at his heart like a red-hot poker, and he shook his head, his own tears filling his eyes. Suddenly, anger replaced

shock, and Michael's jaw hardened.

"No way." He began untying the laces on Sara's tennis shoes.

"If you think I'm leaving you out here to rot, then you have no faith in me at all." His words were punctuated by the way he jerked the laces from their holes.

"What are you doing?" Sara asked, panicked.

"Making some modifications," Michael said, refusing to look at her as his fingers unsnapped her jeans.

Sara gasped, and tried to stand, but Michael held her down.

"Sit still." he said, his voice shaking with annoyance.

"What are you doing?" she asked again, and Michael shot her a deadly look.

"You think," he began as he grabbed the cuffs of her jeans legs and pulled,

"That I'm so cold hearted that I could leave you out here as a mid-day buffet for the damned vultures, don't you?" he asked, and pulled his knife from his boot.

Sara felt as though she were watching a horror movie of her own making.

_Oh God. What was he doing? _

Michael's face was stormy with anger, and Sara was petrified. He wasn't telling her what he was doing; he was just _doing. _Michael seemed to sense her thoughts.

"Its not what you're thinking," he said.


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I've no rights to Prison Break or the characters.**

Michael quickly cut through the fabric of Sara's jeans, trying hard not to stare at her sitting in the desert sand in her pretty pink underwear. She'd pulled the hem of her shirt down as far as it would stretch, but Michael had still been afforded a flash of lace and satin. Sara had not flashed him intentionally, but how could he not see, when he'd been the one to skim her jeans off in the first place.

When he'd successfully rendered the garment into a pair of uneven Daisy Dukes, he tossed them at Sara, careful to keep his eyes averted as he slipped his knife back into it's hiding place.

"It's not much further, and you'll be cooler," he said by way of explanation, even though she hadn't asked for one.

Sara blinked, holding the mutilated jeans up by the waist band.

"I'm glad you didn't pay big bucks for these," she said absently, slipping them quickly over he shapely legs and hips.

Michael grinned, and turned to her when he was sure she was decent.

"Yeah, well;" he blushed enough to turn his ears pink.

"Someday I'll buy you some really high-priced ones." His wink caused Sara to blush herself.

"Come on," Michael coaxed, standing.

"We've got to get going. It's not far, and if we hurry, we might still catch Fernando and my brother."

Sara tried to stand, but those blasted black dots that were filling her vision moments before returned swiftly. Michael grabbed her beneath the arms before she hit the ground a second time.

"Put your arm around my neck," he instructed, and Sara did as she was told.

Carefully, Michael picked her up, nestling her body securely against his. If he had to, he'd carry her all the wretched way to Panama, if it meant he wouldn't have to be away from her again.

"Comfy?" Michael asked when Sara made no complaints about her current mode of transportation;

"Yep," she answered drowsily, and Michael thought he could detect a slur to her speech.

_You stupid fool,_ his conscience chastised,

_You're killing her anyway._

Michael looked down at the woman in his arms. Unless he were dreaming, the flush to her face had lessened, and she was breathing easier. Sara caught his gaze, and smiled back at him.

"You're sure you're okay," Michael asked, and Sara nodded.

"I'm worried about you. You can't carry me all the way to the rendevous point."

Michael raised an eyebrow.

"Watch me." he said, his voice determined and his jaw hard.

"I guess I have a front row seat don't I?" she asked, and Michael grinned.

"You must be feeling better with all the chattering you're doing," he teased, and Sara snuggled her head against his shoulder.

"I'm sorry I got upset back there," she said, and tightened her grip around his neck.

"Don't sweat it," he said, keeping his eyes straight ahead.

It had killed Michael to realise that Sara thought his intentions anything less than honourable. He was in a hurry, and didn't want to waste time explaining his every move. But maybe he should have.

"I told you; you can trust me, Sara."

Getting no response; no smart remark, not even a grunt, Michael looked down to see that Sara had finally lost consciousness. After what she'd been through the past twelve hours, it should've been no surprise, but Michael suddenly felt as if his world were about to come crashing down on top of him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I've no rights to Prison Break or the characters.**

Looking through the binoculars, Lincoln Burroughs squinted at the small dot on the horizon. He was alone in a small deserted shack in the New Mexican desert; the rendesvoux he, Sucre and Michael had agreed on. From there they were to have taken a private plane to Panama. But Michael had never shown. Telling Sucre to go on without them, Lincoln had watched the plane take off with a sense of dread. _Now what?_

The dot on the horizon was getting closer, and Lincoln's instinct went into overdrive. He hoped it was Michael, but was prepared to fight or run, if it weren't. Squinting, Lincoln held his breath, not believing what he saw.

Michael held Sara's limp body tight against his chest. Her face was pale, her eyes closed and cheeks sunken. Kellerman hadn't killed her, but Michael was very sure he was going to finish the other man's job. Michael could see the outline of a vacant shack several yards ahead. This was where he was supposed to have met his friends; but he didn't expect them to be there now. Sara moaned in his arms, and Michael glanced down at her again.

"Hang on sweetheart," he whispered, fixing his gaze on the shack.  
"We're almost to shelter." Never breaking stride, and daring not to look away from his destination, Michael kept walking steadily on.

Lincoln couldn't believe his eyes. His brother Michael was walking toward the shack, clutching Sara tightly in his arms. Lincoln shook his head, anger clouding his eyes. The other man in the room stood, walking toward Lincoln.

"What is it, son?" He asked, and Lincoln glanced quickly at him.

"Your son approaches," Lincoln replied, handing the binoculars off

"The other man took the binocs and stared at Michael as he drew nearer the shack.

His heart began to pound; he hadn't seen Michael in ages, and he was afraid of what his son's reaction would be.

"Who's the woman?" he asked, and Lincoln replied,

"Dr. Sara Tancredi; she left the door open at Fox River." he explained, and ran out of the shack and toward his brother.

Michael saw Lincoln running toward him, and he quickened his pace, hoping and praying Sara would live through this. The sun was hot, and even though the shack was just an empty shell, it would provide relief from the burning rays. Lincoln drew up next to his brother.

"What happened?" he asked, genuine concern on his face as he stared at Sara.

"She had a run in with Kellerman." Michael looked around them.

"You should've been gone hours ago." He said, walking on.

"Yeah well, I thought about it," Lincoln said, adding,

"But I told Sucre to go on; we'd catch up to him later. I didn't know what the hell had happened with you." He glanced again at Sara, and led his brother wordlessly to the shelter.

Michael had no idea what was waiting for him in the shack and as he stepped inside, he didn't notice his dad standing in the corner. Michael's eyes never left Sara's face, and his mind was racing. How were they going to get to Panama now? He'd screwed up the whole plan by going after Sara. But she'd needed him, and he'd go back to Fox River in a second, if it meant that Sara was away from Kellerman. Squatting, he gently laid Sara on the floor, using his canteen to rest her head upon. Lincoln darted a glance at his dad, then spoke low.

"Michael, there's something I need to tell you," he said, but Michael shook his head, checking Sara's pulse.  
"It can wait, Linc;" he said.

"Right now, we've got to get her some water, maybe some food, and get her well enough to travel." Even as he said the words, he felt it was impossible.

"My car is around back," a strange man's voice said, causing Michael to jump up and spin around.

His eyes rested on the man he'd not seen for years, and Michael's jaw stiffened. He shot a glance toward Lincoln and back to his father.

"What are you doing here?" He asked, his eyes narrowed and his hands curled into fists.

Lincoln stepped in between the two men, grabbing Michael by the upper arms.

"Listen to me, Michael. He's got a car; we can get out of here and head toward the border. I didnt' want to tell you but-" His explanation was cut off by the sound of an approaching vehicle.


	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I've no rights to Prison Break or the characters.**

Things began happening at a frenetic pace inside the shack. Lincoln peered out the window in time to see a very official looking black sedan approaching across the desert sand, and his mind raced as he turned back to the other two men.

"We're busted," he said, looking wildly from Michael, to Sara, to their father.

Michael looked down at Sara just in time to see her eyes open and slowly take in her surroundings.

"Michael," she whispered, and he cupped his hands to her face.

"I'm right here," he said, and helped her sit up.

Lincoln was panicking, and turned to his brother.

"Man, we're toast. That's Rowe in that car and he's out to make a kill."  
"Let's go out the back," Michael suggested, helping Sara to stand.

"Can you run?" he asked, and as if on second thought, scooped her into his arms.

It would be faster that way. With his father and Lincoln covering the front, Michael quickly carried Sara to the waiting car parked out of sight behind the shack. She ducked quickly into the back seat, hunching down so as not to be seen. Michael slammed the door, and ran back to the shack just in time to see his father deliver a sickening punch to Rowe's kidneys. Rowe slumped to the ground in agony, and Lincoln grabbed the man's gun. Turning, he and their father ran toward the car.

"I told you we'd make it," the elder man grinned, clearly enjoying the adventure.

Michael grinned back. He was glad to know his dad was on their side.

"Hell of a punch there." Michael complimented, and headed for the car.

Once they were all in the car, Lincoln drove to the front of the shack where Rowe's car was still parked. Rowe was stumbling toward his car, but when Lincoln shot every one of the tires on the black sedan, Rowe sat down in the sand and watched as they drove away in a cloud of dust.

"How long to the border," Michael asked, and Lincoln shrugged.  
"Several hours, if we drive without stopping." He flicked his gaze in the rearveiw to see Sara's head resting on Michael's shoulder.

"How's she doing?" he asked, and Michael looked down to see Sara smiling into his face.

He couldn't help but smile back. She was even prettier than he realised, and the desire to kiss her filled his mind. But not here, in front of his brother and father. Instead, he winked playfully at her, and Sara lifted her head.

"I'm holding my own," she said, and looked up at Michael.

"There's something about being rescued that does a girl good."


End file.
